


'Platonic' is the hardest word

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel's Asexuality Fics [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Friendship, Gen, Intimacy, Queerplatonic relationship, Trust, not everything is about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Tony says when they come down to breakfast the morning after moving into the Tower is,</p><p>“So, you two are together, right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Platonic' is the hardest word

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for asexual_fandom's 2013 Asexy Valentines Fest.
> 
> Since it's Feb 7 (which is the starting date) where I am, I'm going to post this now. I'll give it another error check later, so if there's any typos, LMK.

** ‘Platonic’ is the hardest word **

The first thing Tony says when they come down to breakfast the morning after moving into the Tower is,

“So, you two are together, right?”

“No,” says Natasha.

“You got cereal somewhere?” asks Clint.

* * *

It’s not your standard sort of relationship, Clint gets that, but then he and Natasha aren’t exactly your standard sort of people, so what Clint doesn’t get is why everyone is always so determined to believe that the two of them are fucking each other.

_ Yes _ , they’re really close, know each other inside-out and trust each other in a way they don’t anyone else, but why does that have to mean there’s sex involved? No one’s going around accusing Thor of sleeping with Sif and the Warriors Three (although maybe that’s just because no one wants to piss off the Thunder God). It’s really annoying. 

Stark brings it up a couple of times, so the third time Nat drives a knife into the table between his right index and middle fingers and after that he shuts up, although it’s clear he still thinks there’s hanky-panky going on. Probably of the kinky kind, too, Clint thinks gloomily.

The thing is. Yeah, Natasha’s hot, okay? But Jesus, it’s like that’s the only thing people _see_. Honestly, how hot Natasha is – it’s like, the least important thing about her, so when everyone assumes that her body is the major reason she and Clint are partners, like nothing else matters – well, that’s fucking insulting. To both of them, actually.

Clint has a long history of messing up those kinds of relationships, anyway, and he’d never think of risking his relationship with Natasha that way, even if he _did_ want her like that – which, for the record, he doesn’t, because what they have is just fine. As for Natasha… well, the way she grew up and the things she did before she came to SHIELD mean that she has a different perspective on sex than most people. 

For Nat sex is a thing you use to have power over people: at its most benign, it’s about self-gratification and getting what you want out of people, and at its worst… Clint isn’t even going to go there. So, as far as Natasha is concerned, a healthy, equal relationship where two people trust each other can _only_ happen if no one wants to fuck the other person. It’s screwed up, sure, but Clint isn’t sure she’s completely wrong.

Anyway, the important point here is that Clint and Natasha aren’t sleeping together, and they’re perfectly okay with that.

* * *

“Bruce asked me if we’re dating,” Natasha says, when Clint flops onto the couch where she’s sitting and lets his head drop into her lap. Natasha immediately does the thing where she sort of gently scratches his scalp, and damn, that feels good. Natasha told him once that if he were a cat, he would purr.

“I told him that would only complicate a fully functional relationship,” Natasha adds, and Clint sighs, because while it’s the absolute truth, he knows Bruce is going to interpret it as the two of them wanting to date but being too afraid of intimacy or some shit.

“Oh my God, _normal people_ ,” Clint mutters fervently.

“ дебилы ,” Natasha agrees.

* * *

It wouldn’t be so annoying if people didn’t make _assumptions_ all the time.

They’re at some fancy fundraising thing (and Jesus, just kill him now, please) Fury’s made them all attend because they need the PR or something, and Clint is stuck in an uncomfortable suit trapped in a room with rich people and expected to make polite conversation.

Clint tries the whole small-talk thing for about twenty minutes ( _normally my husband and I holiday on our yacht this time of year, but I simply had to meet the Avengers!_ ) until he offends this one guy by complimenting him on his toupee. God, Clint needs booze. _So much._

Clint manages, somehow, to work his way through the crowd over to the bar, to order himself a much-needed drink.

After a minute he turns to observe the ballroom.

Tony Stark is schmoozing and charming the wealthy guests like a pro, the ‘billionaire douchebag’ façade fully up and running. He can’t see Bruce anywhere, Thor is inhaling _hors d’oeuvres_ like there’s no tomorrow, and Natasha seems to have found a mark: a young, sweetly good-looking young guy who’s receiving her demure yet determined advances with a shy smile. Yeah, Nat is so in there.

Clint glances around as Steve approaches the bar and orders a drink as well, his slightly-fixed ‘USO tour’ smile firmly in place.

“Man, I would so rather be facing Doombots right now,” Clint greets him, and Cap laughs.

“I know what you mean.” The two of them sip their drinks, content to be out of the spotlight and the crowds for a bit. “Where’s Natasha?”

Clint jerks his head at where Natasha is smiling up at her paramour for tonight, a hand on his arm, like he’s the most fascinating man in the room. He’s a lucky guy, Clint concedes. Not so lucky as Clint is to know the real Natasha, but he’s still got it pretty good. Clint knows from her seduce-the-target missions that Nat is fantastic in bed.

Steve’s mouth draws down into a frown as he takes in the scene, and seriously, if he’s about to spout out some 1940s slut-shaming bullshit Clint is going to dump his drink all over Steve’s new suit with extreme prejudice.

What Steve says is quite different, though.

“Aren’t you – doesn’t that bother you?”

Clint blinks.

“What?” he asks warily, still ready to pour his drink over Cap’s head if he needs to.

Steve shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

“Her… doing that, with someone else.”

Okay, not the answer Clint was expecting.

“Why would it bother me?” He asks, genuinely confused, because sometimes he’s a little slow about this kind of thing and it hasn’t clicked for him yet.

“Well, you two…” Steve says carefully, and Clint puts it together.

He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes a little.

“Don’t worry, Cap, we’re not like that,” he assures Steve, “we’re friends, not lovers.” 

It feels weird to say ‘lovers,’ but if Clint said ‘fucking each other’ Steve would make that pained face like he’s wondering when the death of romance happened. Clint has never seen anyone look so perturbed by a Lady Gaga song before.

“Oh. Okay,” says Steve, although he’s got this puzzled wrinkle that says he really doesn’t.

“C’mon Steve,” Clint complains. “You never had any buddies in the war you got on great with, watched each other’s back, would have died for each other but totally didn’t want to sleep with? We’re _bros_ dude. Why is that so hard for people to get?”

But the little wrinkle has smoothed itself out, and Steve is looking at Clint like maybe he does get it, after all.

“I understand, I think,” Steve says; and he’s got this sad, introspective look in his eyes, like his mind has gone back in time somewhere.

He and Clint don’t talk about it any more, but the next day Clint teases Nat about cradle-robbing and jailbait and gets a punch to the arm for his troubles, and a couple of days later Steve tells Clint about a man named Bucky.

* * *

“So,” Tony starts, a long, long time later, “I have this buddy named Rhodey.”

Clint and Natasha take it for the acknowledgement it is.

END


End file.
